Nevermore
by Erisielle Nightheart
Summary: ["The years have passed, taking with it the souls of everyone in my early days. Yet, the fading history never pulled my memories to the grave, nor did it wither in age."] Characters will be revealed as the story progresses.
1. Chapter 1

_The corners of my lip wavered as they inched for a small smile._

* * *

It wasn't the best time to admire the vast ocean outside the ship.

I've had my share of experiencing Autumn's howling gale. It cut through the fabric of my clothes, with every muscle of my body ripped by the numbing cold sensation. For the number of times I've experienced it, never did I once adored its chilly air, desperate for the call of Winter. Rather, I remained inside my cabin, humming while wiping my giant bow.

The arrival of Autumn meant the cue to leave my hometown, Eryuell Island, for Bermesiah and Ellia. It became a part of my routine –no, my way of living- to drop by the Kingdom of Serdin to visit the grave of the Grand Chase. Ellia's a refreshing detour to leave the emotions that resurfaced when I paid my respects for my fallen comrades before I go back to my hometown.

I put the cloth aside; the bow remained on my lap. On the bedside table was a small vase with a Stargazer, its neck hunching over for its need of water. It was part of the bouquet of mixed flowers I offered to the grave, but this one fell from the bouquet and I never had the chance to include it in the bunch.

I placed the bow on the bed and went to the bathroom with the flower vase in hand. Assuming we're nearing our destination, the Stargazer would still appreciate the small amount of water I bathed it in the vase. A soothing wave rippled in my chest as I gazed into the flower, perhaps its way of saying thank you.

"There you go dear," I stroked a lone petal and left the bathroom, placing the vase on the bedside table. It reminded me, never have I seen the large grave of the Grand Chase without flowers. Despite the years and centuries that passed, the thought that people continued to pay their respects for the departed heroes made me happy. There were some that survived the fall of the Chase, but I doubt they remember to visit the grave site.

The corners of my lip wavered as they inched for a small smile. Perhaps I'm the only one left in the team… If the last of us are still considered as one.

 _"Attention passengers. As of 2:17 in the afternoon, we've arrived at the Southern Docks of Ellia. Please proceed to the main deck, thank you."_

"Poor you," I murmured to the flower, pulling it out of the vase and pinning it to my hair. With my bow on hand, I wore my bag and sauntered off the room. The wide corridor was enough to accommodate all the passengers without having to resemble squished sardines. I kept walking towards the dock, the mixed voices of the youth and the elderly drowned the ship's music.

However, when I reached the main deck, people gathered into swarms where the accidental shoulder bumps became frequent to the point that most never bothered to say 'Excuse me'. The boat docks were not that low from the main deck; I can leap out of here without having to endure the exchange of bumps, and 'Excuses me' and 'Pardon' phrases. However, considering my Arch Ranger uniform if I leap would not only receive colourful words with adorning insults, but will also give time for the men to adjust their eyes underneath my dress.

"Good Gaia, look at these people," I bit my lip in the woman's vain call of the Goddess of Life's name. "Keep my husband alive, please." Unable to control the synchronized emotions in my chest, I turned to gaze at the woman. Her black eyes shone and reflected the bottled tears.

"I'm so sorry to hear that," I grasped her hand. Despite the urge to meet her injured husband, she remained patient, unlike most of the humans here with their 'accidental' shoulder bumps. "What ails your husband?"

"Oh, pardon my tears dear," I watched as she bit her lower lip and took a white handkerchief from her purse, dabbing the cloth to the corner of her eyes. Being comfortable with someone who sympathized with her, she said, "My husband was almost killed by a troll, that's why."

"I see," I murmured, taking one step at a time at the boarding stairs, listening to the people in front of me muttering curses at the first person in line being slow and such. The silence between us neither made me feel awkward nor comfortable; however, my thoughts wandered into a spiral of direction, unable to form a coherent statement to keep the conversation healthy and alive. In this loud of a crowd, where a person's murmur and inaudible breathing produced a noise pollution, no wonder I can't keep up with my peace of mind.

The lady, however, went on. "He was a hunter. A usual Southern Hunter will take 2 - 3 hours in the neck of the woods. Rangers are stationed in the forest to keep the monsters from entering the woods, however being high in numbers never did help.

"At five in the dusk, my relatives panicked since he should be home four hours ago. They pleaded for a search, and by luck the rangers heard the roar of the troll in rampage. Not near from the sight was my husband, hidden underneath the bushes with broken legs and ribs."

A troll in the woods of Ellia...? "I pray for his speedy recovery." I didn't expect my tone of voice to be that hollow. I was unaware of my ears perked for who knows how long. Although the empty air neither felt cold nor warm, my hand tightened at the scarf that snuggled on my neck.

"Thank you dear, you are most kind," she dabbed her handkerchief at the corner of her eyes once more. Her voice trailed away, a faint echo of her thanks... A pang of dejavu struck me.

If that wasn't enough to keep my guard low, my legs stiffened. Eventually, I became aware that I dragged my feet on ground, but didn't make an effort to walk the usual way. I found myself struggling to get the words out of my throat, helpless as I watched her walk down the steps beside me, until I realized we're at the port docks already, the tangy scent of the sea lingered in the air.

The chill wind returned the circulation in my legs. "There was one time... a gorgos ravaged the woods nearby-

"What?" I heard the anxiety in my voice, powered by the mad thumping of my heart.

"I'm sorry for alarming you," small tears rolled on her cheeks. "You never know when those beasts will attack, but the previous year's bountiful rampages were enough to set fear in the lives of everyone in the South. There's always the forest rangers, but..." Her voice trailed away, however curiosity set me eager to know what's 'but'.

"In the dead of the night at random times, every ranger hears the distinct ramble of chains. It's said that when they hear it, a new threat enters the woods."

It could be an oldman's tale used to tell children during bedtime, but who knows. Although I regard myself superstitious, I'm not one to believe in human superstitions, folklore and such. I bit my lip hard to keep myself from chuckling.

"Won't the rangers investigate the heart?" I asked.

"They're only tasked to guard the border." Perhaps I'd feel better if she told me that the heart is the lair of the chain man and their crazy stories. "Would you like to stay at our place for a snack?"

I blinked, and found myself in front of a stone house with the woman in the front door, a warm smile on her face made me question myself whether all those were a product of my imagination. "Perhaps by the time I go back to my hometown, I'll drop by." I returned the smile and took a step back, rather than endure the talk about the chain man. It's blind struck a prominent nerve that made me question about its existence.

"Thank you for the lovely talk," I managed to say the words without breaking my smile. "Please, send my regards to your husband. I pray for his speedy recovery." It was all I needed to say without waiting for her reply to turn back and leave, heading for wherever my feet leads me to.

Perhaps an adventure in the forest would take my mind off the resurfacing memories.

* * *

Tell me what you think of it! Reviews are highly appreciated!


	2. Chapter 2

"Old Ellian folks told us that this vast forest is the ruins of the castle it once was, inhabited by a wizard and his only apprentice. Wandering travelers, villagers, rangers, and scouts alike at the dead of the night were taken into the castle as guinea pigs, where they were subjected to the wizard's tormenting experiments until their last breaths.

"The bizarre disappearance of these people led the villagers in a life of fear. One day a group of young travelers arrived here, and they were rumoured to have had entered the castle on their own accord; never had they emerged eversince. However, the day after their banishment brought an end to the villagers' dread. As the thundering noise rippled through the night, the castle finally crumbled into ruins."

Lost in her thoughts that echoed of the man's tale, the elf gave a silent nod and popped a piece of bread into her mouth. "Squadrons of scouts and rangers were sent to investigate the site in hopes of recovering the victims' bodies, and the suspects as well. With vain efforts spent in the morning, only to return in their barracks at night empty-handed, with faces of utter disappointment and confusion, the rangers and scouts decided to stop their search after some time. The ruins held no telltale signs that identified the gruesome experiments the missing wizard conducted to his victims."

Buried deep into the maiden's mind, a certain memory resurfaced with clarity, untouched by the passage of time. Clad in her novice adventurer armour and wielding her first bow gifted by her elder brother Ladmir, their tiny group comprised of five members were tasked by Knight Master Ariel to investigate a castle spotted in Southern Ellia. Once she was a young archer driven by hope to inspire the people she saved from monsters, until they stepped into THAT place, Kamiki's Castle, where the first splatter of blood tainted over her innocence, and the darkness awakened a brighter light in her that later revealed her of a world at the brink of destruction.

If there was one thing Lire learned in that particular mission, it was that not all monsters look like the vile, mutated super-creatures she thought every one of them were, for some of the monsters hide under the flesh of humans. And Elena, Serdin's icon of treachery, was the wolf in sheep's skin. Elena was no different from Kaze'Aze, in such a way that Kaze'Aze also betrayed the kingdom of Kanavan she ruled for years.

Perhaps even that similarity brought Elena satisfaction at herself, as it was a large step closer to the power she yearned for. On her own volition she chose to follow Kaze'Aze's footsteps to become just as powerful as the witch herself, and perhaps she is now proud that her name, famous and unforgotten by history, is just as cursed as her mentor's.

The man's voice brought Lire back from her train of thought. "A theory among the villagers spread that the wizard became mad and turned his power against himself and his apprentice, and the castle followed its owner's death. Over the past years up to the present time it is now called the Chained Forest, for there are nights the forest rangers hear the rattling chains rumoured to be used by the wizard's apprentice to kidnap the innocent. Perhaps he is unable to find solace from his sins and so he suffers, but if leaving a trail of his victim's blood on the ground is what brings him peace in his suffering..."

"There is no redemption in pointless slaughter. It is sad to see a soul beyond Valhalla's grace." Lire said after taking a last sip of the soup, her voice flat and rueful.

Sensing her discomfort, the man apologised and chuckled. "Please excuse your old man. I shouldn't have bothered to relieve the past, but recounting the Ellian folklore makes me feel young once again, you know? It's been a long time since we've had elven visitors such as you. Allow me to refill your bowl as an apology."

Before Lire could attest, the man had already placed a laddle of soup to her empty bowl. A tiny nerve felt ashamed of herself, but nonetheless Lire voiced her thanks. She was starved to decline anyway, and she admitted that the mushroom soup satisfied her. "Such a long time it was, and no one managed to uncover this...'Chained Man's' identity, not even the forest rangers?" Lire said.

"Perhaps some tried to, but they never made it out alive." The man said and occupied the empty seat across her. "We'll never know, that's certain enough. Understandably, the scouts and rangers rarely divulge anything so as not to bring tension in the village. In a quiet community like this, a rumour about that forest spreads like a plague, you know? It haunts everyone, and from that fear blooms superstitions ranging from certain acceptable to questionnable degree."

Lire nodded, a sly grin appearing on her face. "I think I have heard of parents telling their children to be home before the sun sets if they do not wish to be kidnapped and gobbled up by the Chained Man."

"Indeed." The man chuckled. "Don't you wish to be cautious as well? Better be safe than sorry?" Lire simply grinned at the man in reply, one that defined her carefree nature. Shaking his head and chuckling, he said, "You hardly look like the stubborn type, lassie. But come to think of it, haven't I seen you emerge from the forest clearing escorted by three rangers?"

"I did." The archer nodded, and recalled her disappointment. The scouts have found her up in a tree branch while she surveyed the trees that stretched deep into the forest, and had her surrounded below with their spears and bows. But with reluctance, Lire surrendered and allowed herself to be escorted out of the clearing.

Which was how she stumbled upon this quaint diner, and spent the past half hour satisfying her starvation with their soup.

From the corner of her eye, Lire saw the man flash a tiny smile; she could feel the weight of the man's amused gaze. "It's clear that even a squadron of them won't stop you. I won't tell you to keep out as seen from your guts, but please do be careful. Drop by here before you go home and I'll give you free bowls of soup in exchange for your tales."

"Count me in." Lire said with a smile and grabbed her bag. After paying for her meal and thanking the man, she left the diner in search of a place to stay. She would have to wait until the moon rose and a few of the rangers were left at their stations.

With Lire's mind fixed into an adventure to the woods, Eryuelle Island felt like a far place.

* * *

Adjusting the laces of her boots, her green skirt and black spandex shorts, Lire gathered her hair and tied it into a ponytail, her bangs dangled and ruffled just above her eyes.

Southern Ellia was bordered by the ocean on all sides except for the northern part, where the forest lied and waited for her. As much as Lire wanted to sit at the edge of the docks where the lapping black waves called her name, her feet were as much as keen to leap from one branch to another. A quiet evening, perfect to observe the details of the silhouettes through her enhanced night vision, like what she had always wanted to do.

Lire promised herself to return here early in the morning, should she find nothing of interest beyond the heart of the forest. As she made a quick glance of her surroundings, the archer grabbed a branch with one hand and hoisted herself above with ease. Her ears flinched upon hearing the laughter of men from afar, however Lire could not understand a word what they're saying.

She let out a gasp when something whizzed past her. "Get her!" A male voice commanded, and soon was followed by another arrow she dodged before it pierced her cheek. Grinning, the archer leaped out of her spot to another branch and turned back to see a squadron of them charging at her, their weapons and figures blanketed by the forest's shadow.

The thrill of being pursuited pumped adrenaline to her body. More arrows sailed in the wind, yet the arrows would either hit the bark of a tree or land to the ground in a wasted effort to reach Lire. The darkness had always been an obstacle for the human eyesight, she thought upon hearing the rangers' conversation, their voices laced with doubt.

And Lire took their hesitation as an opportunity and fled deeper into the woods. For how long she leaped from one branch to another, the ensuing silence brought along their voices that made her think the rangers kept on with their search. Something's off, the elf thought as she jumped down to the ground.

Sure enough, Lire found herself surrounded by large oak trees instead. What remained of the rangers' last words flitted in her memory, much to her dismay. The rustling leaves seemed to mock her, bringing her back from her thoughts to remind her that this was what she wanted to explore. She tried to focus her eyes elsewhere, to ignore the call of her sinking heart, but the deafening silence taunted her as well.

It didn't help that the moonlight filtered by the leaves barely hit the ground, not to mention they were as tiny as a flint, but Lire thanked the gods for granting her elven vision that helped her see the outlines of the trees shrouded in the shadows. She didn't hesitate to head east, where the wind blew, and kept her ears alert for the sound of chains.

Something fell on her palm, a leaf no doubt, and Lire tried not to wonder why the leaf looked black despite the decent amount of moonlight pouring over this particular spot. A flutter of wings from above, and Lire looked up to see a single shadowy feather falling down on her. She caught it between her fingertips, a legit black feather that matched her arm's length, silky to the touch like the one that landed on her palm moments ago.

Another set of flapping wings caught her attention, and Lire realised that the birds flew away from her unintended intrusion the deeper she went into the woods. The ear-piercing squawks seemed to warn her, but Lire ignored all of them. She could see them perched on the branches, a murder of them with their beady red eyes glinting with delight at the thought of her awaited and unspoken demise.

 _No sign of the Chained Man so far._ She blinked when the air she inhaled suddenly smelled rotten. _But no dead air is going to stop me._ Lire frowned and tied a green scarf just beneath her eyes, covering both her nose and mouth. She could see a horrifying cluster of Hemlocks growing here and there.

At some point she had to turn back for a breather, for the stench became strong and made her dizzy. While Lire cleared her lungs from the foul odor, she was brought back by her memories in Eryuelle Island. Elves generally planted Hemlock and Wolfsbane on certain places because the strong stench prevented strangers and wild animals from trespassing.

 _Whoever planted these forgot to include Wolfsbane._ Lire thought and held her breath. She could only go forward, it's too late to leave when curiosity bothered her to look for an answer. 'Definitely a place to stay out, with the crows flocking at this particular place and the thriving Hemlock plants. _Am I going to meet an elf? Or someone who knew about our race's tradition of keeping trespassers out?_

" _Fathmr_ ," Lire whispered. In a swirl of pale light, her composite bow appeared on her hand. Gripping the handle, she bent down and advanced with caution while scanning her surroundings. The leafy forest ground gave way to a narrow, sandy path, bordered by large oak trees on either side. Lire gulped the bitter taste in her mouth and took one last look behind her before she took a step forward. She could see that the single path led her further to what she thought as the void, where the darkness engulfed the sides of the trees.

For a moment Lire thought that she could see something red hovering in the air, mist perhaps, but shrugged it off. Her ridiculous imagination playing tricks on her only meant that she admitted to the dread that made her heart thump out of her ribcage. Rubbing and slapping her forearms, Lire took another step, and froze as her heart skipped a beat.

Ice crawled up to her legs and arms, almost willing her frozen to her spot. The tips of her ears curled at the cracking sound beneath her foot, and she looked down after gulping.

"Bones?" Lire heard the rush of blood behind her ears. For as long as her elven vision stretched, Lire gaped at the expanse of bones that composed the ground she stood up on. One gentle step, and the brittleness give away that exuded a powdery white dust. Beyond the sea of bones, over what Lire saw as the gaping darkness, was instead a thick mist in the colour of crimson.

Lire landed to her rear, but scrambled back up to her feet. Her nails dug into her palm from clutching on Fathmr, and just as she was turning to her heels her ears perked upon hearing the rattle of chains nearby. Her heart seemed to have stopped at that moment, until the chains slammed on the ground before her that slammed her senses back as she dodged them, missing them by an inch. The chains retreated into the shadows, and Lire wasted no time firing a runed arrow to the chains' direction.

The chains' pointed tip bursted once again from the shadows, this time from a different direction, and Lire barely dodged it as she took her time listening for her attacker's cry, its cold, metal surface hit her leg. _A scratch is nothing to worry about._ She shrugged off the pain and thought of retreating. The overpowering stench of Hemlock made her vision spin, it didn't do any well with her accuracy, let alone the pitch-black darkness.

But her attacker seemed to have heard her plans despite the silence. A tiny cry escaped Lire's lips as the blunt impact hit her bare shoulder; the wave of pain sent a tremor over her right arm, releasing her grip on Fathmr. She heard a crack of a bone, but was unsure if it's from the bones littered on the ground or it was from her shoulder. The pain made it clear that she was in no shape to shoot another arrow, and the shock on her arm sent her kneeling on the ground as she clutched her shoulder, turning around shortly and saw Fathmr a few inches away from her.

With her good arm, Lire managed to reach her bow and let it dissipate from sight into a sparkle of light. She stood up, although the right side of her body was still badly shaken after taking the chain's impact, yet struggled to run away. She could already see the clearing where the dusty pale path gave way to the blackened earth-

And fell face first to the ground when the chains whipped her ankles. Lire gritted her teeth in defiance, and shortly fell limp when her assailant pressed two fingers on her neck, her features calming as her consciousness slipped.

"Bullseye." Her assailant chuckled. The chains rattled when he raised them, as if preparing to whip the elf's limp body.

* * *

In Old Norse, _Fathmr_ means Fathom.


	3. Chapter 2-5

The winds sounded like a wolf's howl echoing all the way from Kastulle Ruins. He plucked a piece of flower on the ground as he inhaled the ocean's breeze, tasting salt in his mouth. Sleep threatened to close his eyelids, but the faint rustle of leaves always sent little energy enough to observe his surroundings from wandering mutants and humans-a quick observation that covered every movement of the shadows and leaves for five seconds at most-before dozing off in his spot.

 _The night's chilly._ He thought as he snuggled his chin against the scarf he wrapped around his neck and slung the rest of it over his shoulders. He couldn't want for this blasted night patrol to end so he could go home and cuddle against his pillows, all bundled up in a blanket like a baby as he slept away all his frustrations-

"Hey Scarecrow! I've brought you a sexy addition to your seashell collection!"

Scarecrow flinched, his eyes twitching as his companion's voice echoed in his ears like a bell tolling in a cave. "Haven't I told you not to shout at this time of the night? You're going to wake up-what is THAT?"

"A body, what else does it look like?" The blond said with a shrug of his shoulders. "She's unconscious, so that still doesn't give you right to emphasise your disgust as if she's a decaying carcass." Yet again, one of Scarecrow's eyes twitched as he glared at the latter, to which the blond ignored and added, "One of a kind, I tell you. I've never fought a tenacious herbivore in all my life-"

"'Tenacious herb'? Now look who's calling her a useless vegetable."

"We are not going to argue about clarifications, buster. It's not my fault your listening skills are beyond saving at this point." The blond stuck out his tongue, enough to show the glinting silver stud at the tip. "And I said 'herbivore', not herb. Just look at her ears."

Wordless, the former simply stared at the body and chose to wait for the wind to blow away the locks that covered the girl's ears instead. Seconds passed, the blond tapped his foot in impatience and opened his mouth to speak, yet the words died in his throat when Scarecrow finally approached him and tucked a lock of blonde hair behind the girl's ears, revealing her face and the pointed tips of her ears. His eyes raised in mild surprise. "She's an elf."

"Bingo~. Now you're carrying her."

"You son of-" midway, Scarecrow froze when his companion smiled, one of those rare, genuine smiles that promised to carry out a thousand unspeakable deeds. The blond took a step back, and Scarecrow snatched the girl's body from his companion before she was hurled either into the air or the ocean. "-an orc," he muttered, his tone flat as the last of his adrenaline diminished.

"Man does she weigh like a horse. Don't tell her when she wakes up if you don't want to risk living with a snapped neck." The blond said and turned his back against Scarecrow. "Go nourish her with a classic shredded-up grass smoothie, but I'll leave the rest of the caring duties to you. I have to resume my misery-go-rounds."

If Scarecrow would offer words of encouragement, he would've said 'Break a leg', so to speak. Shaking his head, he decided to seek refuge under one of the trees nearby where he could think how would he care for her. However, he ended up staring at her face once again as he sat on the grass patch and cradled her in his arms as if she were a baby, his mind devoid of ideas.

A few strands of blonde locks flew over her serene face, and he knew from her delicate frown that she was lost in her dreams. Brushing away her hair that hid her neck from his view, his fingers went to her pulse point and pressed lightly, her skin soft against his calloused fingertips. 'Looks like she regained consciousness some time when we were talking about her.' He closed his eyes and sighed, a great burden lifted from his chest.

He sucked his breath when her expression tightened, muttering under her breath that sounded like a jumble of words, which he assumed she was speaking in her mother tongue. And while Scarecrow regarded the Elven maiden with slight amusement, she clutched her right forearm and snuggled against him, saying 'Ry' as her voice trailed away into the silence, her face softening as the dreams drowned her. Some time as he watched her talking in her sleep, his hold on her tightened.

Not only his palms, but his chest as well. His overall bewilderment at her presence, which he thought he had everything shoved into his guts, ate through his ribcage, making his heart swell the longer he stared at the elf's face. He still disapproved, however, only because he didn't want to be stand corrected, that the girl he cradled wasn't the girl he had in mind.

"Sir?"

The young voice snapped him out of his reverie, and he pushed aside the weight in his eyelids. All traces of tranqulity that displayed his contentment moments ago disappeared, his eyes hardening to address the shadowed figure of a boy standing before him. Scarecrow watched as the boy crouched, pointing a finger at the elf in his arms. "A casualty?"

Scarecrow muttered a curse, entirely forgetting to ask his blond companion about the details of his encounter with the elf. "I'm afraid so. The messenger emerged from the forest clearing carrying her."

"Let me bring her to a safe place. When her safety's ensured, I'll resume with my patrol."

Scarecrow, however, was quick to get lost in his thoughts. He twirled a lock of the elf's hair to his finger, his gaze painfully distant. "Resuming your patrol isn't necessary. I'll send someone from the guild to take over your post." The boy exclaimed and opened his mouth to protest, but was cut off when Scarecrow stared at him directly in the eye, and he found himself saying, "I entrust her to you. Look after her until she's well enough on her own." There was a sense of longing and plead in his quiet voice, which surprised him a bit.

The boy didn't seem to notice it, or he just chose to accept the fact that he had no choice but to follow the order. With reluctance Scarecrow gave the elf to the boy, and his expression softened while he watched her shift slightly on the boy's arms.

"Good, she's beginning to stir. Later, I'll lead you to her room at the inn so you can see her."

And the boy dashed away without waiting for Scarecrow's reply. He watched as the boy's figure disappeared into a blur, exhaling his relief that fluttered in his chest. Yet the weight of missing her remained, her scent of flowers, her unusual warmth in his arms while he cradled her by the field of flowers overlooking the ocean.

Now that she was gone, the realisation that he had no more reason to doze off made him yawn. Hopefully she'd awaken later in the morning so he had a reason to check on her, otherwise he'd dump himself in his quarters and sleep for the whole day. But what if, just as he feared, he had the wrong person?

It's too early to hope, yet it's too late to regret for everything, he thought before yawning once more as he adjusted his scarf. While he stood up and brushed off the bits of grass that clung to his jeans, he found a small, white object on the ground between his feet. Upon closer inspection it revealed to be the Stargazer flower that was pinned on the elf's ear, a remainder of her lingering presence that continued to haunt him.

* * *

A head-splitting migraine woke Lire the following day.

The archer struggled to push herself into a sitting position with one hand, as the other blocked the sunlight that seared through her eyelids. Instead, she ended up plopping back to the mattress, the palm she used to shield her eyes from the sunlight now lay atop her forehead. Much to her distaste, Lire noted that her temperature was beyond normal, almost burning.

She racked her brain for the cause of her vegetative state, but shortly regretted it when a fresh wave of pain made her see stars behind her eyelids.

"It's a relief to see you awake."

Disregarding the pain, her eyelids flew open upon hearing a deep male voice beside her. With vain efforts that made her grit her teeth and shiver, Lire finally rewarded herself by sitting on the mattress while ignoring much of her head's protests. She blinked and found a boy sitting at the edge of the mattress, staring at her sorry form with pity in his blue eyes.

Lire opened her mouth to speak, but choked on her own words instead. Sitting down and being able to get a glimpse of the boy seemed too much for her to handle. She could hear herself coughing, followed by the ringing in her ears, but in a moment felt a pair of hands ease her back to the bed.

"Take it easy. You're having a fever." Ridiculous, Lire wanted to say in the midst of groaning while clutching her pounding forehead. "I found you lying unconscious at the forest clearing earlier, so I took you in and cared for you. You were out cold for half a day."

Without daring to open her eyes, Lire managed to speak in a strained voice. "I apologise for trespassing Chained Forest." She stopped shortly to gather her breath, then added, "You and the rangers have my thanks for saving me." Lire could've properly put into words her gratefulness and apology if it weren't for the rising acid in her throat.

She pitied herself for being unable to feel humiliation, for taking advantage of the long silence to take a mouthful of air. However, just as Lire prepared herself for a deep slumber, the boy beside her spoke in a soft voice.

"You've mistaken your location, not that I blame you, but we're not in the Southern Docks."

Nothing felt much more foreign to her cold skin than the warmth of the blanket, all traces of comfort disappeared in her system as her eyes shivered open. She possessed a moment of clarity to catch a glimpse of the boy before her vision blurred; he was no more than fifteen years old with curling dark brown hair and bright blue eyes, his nose and mouth obscured by a black scarf. And apparently it wasn't sunlight that glowed behind her eyes, but rather the room's lone lightbulb.

Lire remembered that the forest rangers wore caps, not scarves.

The race of her thoughts worsened her migraine; she emitted a low growl of frustration while burying her damned head to the pillow. "Relax miss. You won't recover if you keep thinking. You're safe, I assure you."

 _...Am I?_ The comfort and hospitality in the boy's voice wasn't enough to remove the load off her chest, especially after what he told her only made her heart race. And while a tiny voice in Lire's mind relieved her that she still had her clothes on, she was still in this room with a stranger. "Just tell me, where are we?"

"We're in Silver Cross Town."


End file.
